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The house looked like any other, but it was just one of dozens along my campaign route in the battleground state of Wisconsin. I spent an hour knocking on doors with nothing to show for it, distributing campaign literature to people who had made their choice a long time ago. People who shared my political sentiments supported me. Those who didn’t quickly closed their doors. No one took anything personally. Everyone seemed to understand the recruiter’s pitiful, unrewarding plight.
No one showed up at the house before me, so I hung the election documents on the doorknob. I got back in the van and was about to drive away when suddenly a woman came out of the house. Her face was wrenched in anger. I couldn’t hear what she shouted, but her actions said it all. She raised her hands in the air and tore the election documents into dozens of pieces, scattering them on the lawn.
Instinctively, I jumped out of the van, threw my hands in the air, and thought about asking her which cable news show had brainwashed her into thinking I was the enemy. She then painstakingly listed in detail the many reasons why her thinking was wrong.
But when I looked at her, when I really looked at her, I was stunned to see a small part of myself reflected. I even understood her anger and reaction. If an unwanted recruit came knocking on my door, I might have a hard time keeping them in their full dignity.
Although it was a shame to invite them, I thought it was better than doing nothing, so I decided to do it. I told myself I was doing it for my children, my family, and those who came out to me that I didn’t feel safe doing.
I told myself all I could do was knock on some doors.
